FOUR

oooooooooo

"Adam, what you got there?"

The black-haired man's head jerked up. He lowered the telegram he'd been perusing to his lap and looked up to find his giant of a brother, Hoss, looking down at him.

"And don't you say nuthin'," the big man added, suspicion in his voice.

With a sigh, he replied, "Well, obviously, it is 'something', but I fail to see why my reading a telegram would surprise you."

Hoss' blue eyes shifted to the table beside him where, plain as day, a large envelope lay. Upon its surface was written, 'For the eyes of A. Cartwright as regards his inquiry into D. Tollivar'.

"You hired yourself a detective or such?" Hoss asked.

"As a matter of fact, I did."

"To look into old Dan? Whatever for? We know'd him practically our whole lives." Hoss paused. "Pa ain't gonna be happy."

Adam pinched the bridge of his nose. He felt a headache coming on. The black-haired man drew a breath to calm his nerves and let it out slowly before answering, "First of all, 'Pa' doesn't rule my actions. Secondly, since I am thirty-seven and Dan is near or over seventy, that means he was close to forty years old before Pa met him." He looked at his brother. "Have you never wondered what he was doing all those years?"

The big man was scowling. "Pa knew'd him afore that."

He shook his head. "Pa met Dan after I was born. You have to face it, Hoss, there are nearly four decades of the man's life that we know nothing about."

"Adam, why would you do this?" His brother indicated the envelope on the table. "It ain't...right. A man's past is his past."

"Even if there is something in that past that would allow a man to stand by while one of his 'nephews' is killed?"

"Now, that ain't what Joe said –"

"I know what Joe said!" he countered. "I also know that Joe can be as...gullible as Pa."

There, it was out.

Hoss' eyes were wide. "Don't you let Pa hear you call him that."

"All right, then, as 'overly trusting'." Adam tossed the telegram to the table and rose to his feet. "Face it, Hoss, there's something here that doesn't add up. I understand that Dan felt Joe had done him wrong by refusing to take him on the drive – especially after he'd kept Joe from that beating the day before. Still, that isn't enough to make a man who is practically family turn to crime. Dan had to be criminal to begin with and what Joe did...well, exposed it."

"A man can change Adam."

"Yes, yes, he can. I believe that." He paused and looked at the stair, remembering his baby brother not all that long ago, laying in his room, fighting for his life. "And maybe Dan has, I'll give him that. But it bothers me that it took very little provocation for him to...revert."

"Pa says we gotta give a man a chance and forgive."

He threw up his hands. "Pa says. Pa says! Pa is not God. He's a man, Hoss, and like any man, he can make a mistake." His voice and temper had risen so the words came out rapid fire with no time to think better of them. "And that mistake almost got Joe killed."

"Is that what you really believe, Adam?"

They both froze. The voice had come from the doorway, which had just opened to admit their father. He'd been gone handling some timber business in another town and chosen...well...a rather inopportune moment to return.

The black-haired man sucked in air and reminded himself that he was not a little boy. He did not have to back down just because he and 'daddy' disagreed.

"Yes, Pa, that's what I believe. I told you years ago that Dan Tollivar was not a man to be trusted, but you trusted him anyway and look where it ended. I said it when I arrived two weeks back and I'll say it again – Dan Tollivar should be in jail for what he did and not working on the spread." He paused for emphasis. "If it was me, he'd have been tried for attempted murder and kidnapping as well."

"Son," his father said as he approached, "when did you grow so hard?"

"Not hard, Pa. Realistic. Would that the world was peopled in the way you think, with those who helplessly stumble into evil; who make poor choices and mistakes they regret and then choose to do what is right and don't look back." He sighed. "Sadly, that is not my experience. Men are evil unless they choose to do good and even then, it is a struggle."

"So you would give no man a second chance?"

"I would a man who has earned it."

His father pulled off his gloves and tossed them onto the credenza. "And just who would be the judge of whether or not he has earned it?" the older man asked as he moved past, headed for his chair. "You? Adam, you are not God either –"

"That's my point, Pa! Neither of us are. We can't see into a man's soul..."

"And so we trust no man? We are suspicious of all? That's not a world I want to live in, son. Neither should you." The older man paused as if considering his words. "Adam, what's happened? What brought this on?"

How could he explain it when he hardly understood it himself? He could still feel the raw emotions that had all but overpowered him when he read his father's letter detailing Dan Tollivar's betrayal. He knew it was bound up with his own feelings of guilt and remorse. He'd gone away and look what had happened! His father betrayed. His little brother kidnapped, brutalized; nearly killed. They were too innocent, the three of them. Hoss, Pa...Joe. One day someone would take advantage of them and he wouldn't be here to warn them or to stop it and one of them would die and...

It would be his fault.

"Son..."

He held up a hand. "I have to go, Pa."

His father rose to his feet. "Where? Why?"

"I just..." Adam headed for the door. "I just have to go."

He saw Hoss look at his father. The same question passed through both their eyes.

Was he coming back?

As the door slammed beside him and he headed for Sport, Adam had to admit –

He didn't know.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Ben Cartwright dropped into his deep crimson chair and stared at the door through which his oldest son had just disappeared.

"You think he'd comin' back, Pa?" Hoss asked.

"I don't know, son. I imagine he will." The older man paused and a slight smile curled the corner of his lips. "After all, his books are upstairs."

"Sometimes..."

Ben looked up. "Go ahead, son. Say what you are feeling."

"Sometimes it seems them dang books mean more to older brother than any of us do!"

"I'll admit that it does look that way, but I think you're wrong." He paused. "Do you want to know the real reason I think your older brother left us?"

Hoss came around the settee and sat down. "I sure do."

"Since he was a boy, Adam has wrapped himself in indifference. It's a sort of defense – his 'armor', you might say. He has spent decades building it up layer upon layer until it is nearly impregnable. But there is a chink in it. One he has spent the last two years attempting to remedy, apparently, to no avail."

"And what would that be, Pa?"

The older man sighed. "Family."

"You make it sound like a bad thing. At least to older brother."

"Not bad, but, I believe Adam perceives it as a weakness."

Hoss looked puzzled. "You mean...loving each other?"

He nodded. "Loving someone makes you vulnerable." Ben rose then. He crossed to the door, opened it, and looked out just in time to see his eldest fly out of the yard as if the devil himself were on his tail. "I think, when Adam received my letter about Dan and...what happened to Joe...that it terrified him."

His son had come to his side. "But Joe's okay. I mean, he ain't in any danger."

"I didn't mean Adam was terrified of Joe dying, though I believe he was." Ben braced himself with a hand on the door jamb.. "I meant it terrified him to realize just how much he loved Joe and feared losing him."

Hoss was shaking his head. "You're paintin' a mighty sad picture, Pa."

Yes, and he had painted it. Every day when he had called upon Adam to be an adult before it was time, he'd added another stroke to that sad picture. Each time the boy had to endure the death of someone he had come to care for on the way out West – as the child Adam was became first Hoss' mother, and then Little Joe's surrogate father when he abdicated that responsibility. With a wide brush, his own selfish needs had white-washed those walls of indifference his son erected, proclaiming them clean and acceptable. Solid Adam. Steady Adam. Deep-thinking, responsible Adam.

His eldest was a study in contradictions – a man who showed little feeling but felt things so deeply he felt the need to run from them.

"Dear God," Ben breathed softly. "What have I done?"

"Pa?"

At that moment, when the last thing he wanted to do was answer another question, God or fate intervened. A lone rider appeared at the end of the yard. At first he thought – hoped – it was Adam returning, but then Ben realized the man was blond and older and...out of place.

"Pa, what's old Charlie doin' out here?" Hoss asked as they both moved onto the porch. "I don't see Joe with him."

"You're brother should be at Lee's by now," he replied. "Maybe he sent a message."

"That makes sense. I sure hope she's all right."

He did too. He knew from Lee's letters that Trock had returned – the bank robber who had both threatened and saved Joseph's life – and that they had married. He had no reason to question her choice, though it had surprised him. After all, Joseph had felt strongly enough about the man that he had gone to testify at his parole hearing.

"Ho, Charlie!" Ben called as he moved into the yard. "What brings you out here?"

"Can't a fellow make a friendly call?" the stage driver answered, thankfully with a wink and a smile.

"My son didn't give you any trouble, did he?"

"If you call splittin' my sides on the trip to Platt City trouble," the lean man replied as he dismounted. "That young'un of yours, when the Lord poured in his brains someone must have jangled his arm!"

"So, if it's not Joseph," the rancher chuckled, "what it is brings you to the Ponderosa?"

"Oh, now, I didn't say it wasn't that boy of yours what brought me out here. Was in a way, though the message I'm deliverin' is from Lee." Charlie's thin lips pursed as he shook his head. "I told that pretty woman she'd have to take the responsibility."

Ben scowled. "Did Joseph do something to upset her?"

"You might say so and you might not."

His head was beginning to hurt. That was the trouble with stage coach drivers. They spent so much time alone that when they got to talk, it was hard to stop them.

"Well, what did Joseph do?" he demanded.

Charlie grinned, knowing he had succeeded in getting under his skin. "He got off the stage."

Hoss was frowning. Apparently his head hurt too. "You mean somewhere's other than Lee's?"

"I mean smack dab in the middle of nowhere!"

Ben blinked. "I beg your pardon? In the middle of nowhere?"

"Was there a pretty girl involved?" his son asked.

It wasn't much of a leap.

Charlie placed his thumb on his nose. "Kee-rect! Pretty little thing sittin' by the side of the road all by her lonesome. Joe said he knew you'd want him to see her home."

Ben captured his sigh. After all, he had trained the boys to be gentlemen. "Well, I suppose so. And where was home?"

"Joe forgot to ask."

"He...forgot to ask?!"

The blond man was squinting. "I told Joe you wouldn't like that part. And then he told me he was twenty-five and could make his own decisions. Didn't see as it was my place to argue with that, me not bein' kin of any kind."

"Of course not." Ben exchanged a glance with his middle son and then suddenly remembered himself. "Charlie, you must be hot and thirsty. Would you like to come in for a drink and something to eat?"

"Much as I love Hop Sing's cookin', I got me a stage to catch!" Charlie laughed at his own joke. "Gotta take off in about six hours for San Fran. I just come by to tell you about Joe. Now, Ben," he began, noting his look, "that boy's old enough to look out for himself just like he said. After all, what trouble could one itty bitty pretty little gal be?"

A moment later Charlie rode out of the yard.

He and Hoss stood for a moment considering what the stage driver had said, then they turned and looked at each other.

"I'll tell Hop Sing to pack two bags," he said.

"And I'll saddle up the horses," Hoss replied.

Unfortunately – where Joseph was concerned – they both knew just how much trouble that could be.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Dan Tollivar glanced at the map he held in his hand, and then up into the hills where the trail drawn upon it led. Malachi had included it in his letter so he'd know where to deliver the money. There was a lake close by to the 'X' that marked the spot, which didn't surprise him. Mal had spent nine years of his life living on the wharfs; the first few with his wife and her..associates, and the rest moving from boarding house to boarding house as he sought employment. The boy had a mind quick as his smile and he'd fallen into petty crime fast enough. In order to put a stop to it, on Mal's tenth birthday he visited the boy and announced the two of them were heading West. His son fought him. Mal knew the city and how it worked, and knew how to use it to get what he wanted. The idea of wide open spaces – of just the two of them and the land and a dozen head of cattle – held no appeal. He'd always heard tell boys took after their mothers and that sure enough was the fact with his. Beryl, that was the name he knew her by. Never knew if it was her real one. Beryl lived in the badlands where the lights were red and the carpets soft. Men said there was somethin' in the blood could be passed down. The Good Book called it the 'sins of the fathers'.

More like the sins of the mothers.

He'd loved her. Or at least he thought he did. She was a looker and he'd never been, so when she took interest in him, well, he just fell arse over head. Might as well have been blind – or blind-sided. Found out later the whole time she was with him she'd been seein' other men. He always figured one of them offered her somethin' better and that's why she left. Left him. Left her son.

Left them both with nothin'.

Mal came West 'cause he had no choice and stayed with him for around five years. That was 'til he was fifteen and old enough to make it on his own. Then the boy disappeared. He hadn't heard from him in nigh onto forty years. He'd been a young scrubber barely older than his son when he fell hard for that fallen woman. After Mal left, well, he wandered through the land lookin' for the boy. That was how he met Ben Cartwright. Ben had a son too and truth to tell, he was drawn as much to Adam as to his pa, though he and Ben soon became fast friends. He tried to make friends with Adam too, but that boy was a hard one – hard to pin and harder to get to know. Seemed like he was always watching him with those amber-green eyes of his. Maybe he'd tried too hard. Maybe he'd wanted to make Adam into Mal and the boy'd resented it. Whatever it was, they'd never got on, not like he and that youngest one of Ben's.

He hated himself for what he'd done to Little Joe. The boy didn't deserve it.

And so here he was. He'd taken all his gear and belongings 'cept for his saddle and spurs and pawned them in the town. Came up with about fifty dollars. It wasn't much – and it sure wasn't enough to pay off the debt to the man Mal owed – but maybe it was enough that his boy could run somewhere, maybe to Mexico. Once in Mexico Mal would be safe.

And the Cartwrights would be safe too.

Folding the map over, Dan tucked it back into the pocket inside his coat. He reached up then and pulled the collar close around his throat. The day had been hot, but the night was pushin' in and the wind that was pushin' in with it was bitter cold. It was like that in Nevada. A man had to pack for every season since he never knew which one he was gonna get. He was gonna miss it, but he'd made up his mind that once he saw Mal, he was leavin' for good. He didn't know where he'd go. Maybe to Mexico too.

Or maybe just to Hell.

Adam held out his hand and caught the fast-sliding glass just before it could clear the counter. He turned and flashed a grin at Sam, the bartender, before raising it to his lips and downing half of its golden contents in one gulp.

"On the house," Sam said. As he tipped his black hat in gratitude, the big man went on. "What brings you back to town after two years absent? Last time Hoss was in he said they'd gotten a letter from...San Francisco, was it?"

The black-haired man turned so his back was resting on the counter's edge and surveyed the crowd. It was the usual mix of miners, loggers, cowboys and card sharks. The sun was down and trouble was bound to show up.

"It was," he said.

"Said you had a big project there."

Yes, he had, and he had abandoned it to come home. Not very professional of him.

In fact, it had been downright irrational.

The city was still in recovery from the last quake that hit the Santa Cruz mountains and effected the bay area. One of the city's wealthiest men had a building that collapsed due to stress fractures incurred in an earlier quake. He'd decided to build new rather than restoring what he had and had employed him to make sure the fresh structure was sound and could withstand the pressures common to the area. He'd written his father and brothers to let them know he was in the States again, but had given no indication as to whether or not he would come for a visit.

And then the letter had come about Joe and Dan Tollivar.

"I do," he answered at last. "And I need to get back to it. I came into town to check the stage coach departures, but the office was closed. I'm going to get a room at the International for the night so I can go over first thing in the morning. I heard there's a stage heading to California before noon."

"You heading back so soon? After what Little Joe said the other day – "

He'd been sipping his drink. He stopped to ask, "What'd Joe say?"

Unfortunately, he asked it so quickly Sam's brows popped up toward his hairline. "Only...that he was happy you were home. He was talking to one of the girls and told her how much he'd missed you."

"Joe? Missed me?"

Sam snorted. "You seem surprised."

Adam sighed. "Well, to tell the truth, I am. Joe and I have done little but knock heads since he's been on his feet. If you ask me, I'd say that little brother feels he doesn't need an older brother around anymore."

"Now, you know that ain't true, Adam," a familiar voice remarked from close beside him. He turned to find his brother Hoss standing with one hand on each of the batwing doors, spreading them wide.

"Don't you think I'm a little old to have you trailing me?" the black-haired man snapped as he signaled to Sam, indicating he wanted another drink. "Shouldn't you be out looking for the youngest Cartwright?"

"If you'd stop thinkin' everythin' was about you, Adam, you'd see that's just what I'm doin'."

Adam scowled over the edge of his freshly-filled glass. "What do you mean? Joe's at Lee's." He swallowed and then asked, "Isn't he?"

"Maybe. Maybe not," the big man answered as he sidled up and leaned on the bar beside him. "But then, if you're takin' off again, I guess you don't rightly care."

"Were you listening outside?" he asked as Sam offered his brother a beer and Hoss turned it down.

"I don't need to listen to nothin'." The big man paused. "You might as well have not come home, Adam. You ain't been here – least not since the night Joe turned the corner."

"What do you mean?"

Hoss eyed him for a moment. "Older brother, you know I never did think I would say this to you, but seems to me you're a bit of a coward."

The word was like a slap in the face. His temper flared.

"What?"

"It's easier, ain't it? Livin' far away and thinkin' of no one and nothin' but yourself. It's all...clean...like Hop Sing's kitchen late at night. But you know what, Adam, livin' starts in the mornin' when the taters are peeled and the eggs broke and it's real messy."

"You're not making sense!"

Hoss took hold of his arm. "Yes, I am, older brother, but you don't want to admit it. You don't want to admit all of them emotions churnin' in your guts. It's easier just to walk away and pretend they don't exist!"

"Let go of me!" he demanded.

His brother's blue eyes narrowed. "Why? Cause you're mad enough to take me on? You know what, Adam. That's messy too!"

His jaw was clenched and a cold fire burned in his gut. "You will unhand me. Now!"

"Hoss, let him go."

Adam turned his head. His father was standing in the door.

The look on the older man's face took the fiery wind out of his sails.

And the rumpled tan hat in his hands sank the ship.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Ben let the doors go. He drew a breath as they swung to behind him and faced his sons.

He and Hoss had decided to come into town, hoping that town was where Adam had gone. He'd also wanted to check in with Roy before they headed out to Lee's. Roy had just returned from Platt City where he'd been called to give a deposition. He had hoped that, perhaps, the lawman had run into Joseph somewhere along the way. He'd started toward the jail only to be hailed and turning, found that Roy had been looking for him. An abandoned rig had been found by the road a few miles out from Lee Bolden's place – no, make that Lee Throckmorton's. He had to remember she had remarried. There had been signs of a struggle as well as a trail that indicated someone had been dragged off.

Joseph's hat had been found lying by the side of the rig.

He'd left Roy and headed straight for the saloon where he'd asked Hoss to wait for him. They'd seen Adam's horse tethered outside the International House and he'd gone there first to see if his eldest had rented a room. The man at the desk indicated Adam had headed out for a drink and so he had come to Sam's place expecting to find the two brothers seated at a table in the corner affably sharing a beer and enjoying each other's company.

Instead he had found them at each other's throats.

"Hoss, let him go," the rancher said as he stepped into the establishment. "We have other things to worry about."

His eldest was staring at the hat in his hands. It was hard to miss the condition it was in, which was trampled.

"Where'd you get that, Pa?" he asked.

"Like you'd care," Hoss muttered as he shoved past. It was meant to hurt and Ben watched the verbal dart strike his oldest son. Once he was at his side, his middle boy reached out to touch the tan Stetson. "Joe?" he asked.

"I don't know," he answered honestly, and then he explained what Roy had told him. "It's possible your brother simply lost it. It looked like the rig had run off the road. If he was busy helping the young lady, well...you know your brother."

"What 'young lady'?" Adam asked.

Ben looked from one son to the other. Their common concern about their missing brother seemed to have smoothed over their disagreement.

For the moment.

"I'd like to get on the road, Adam," he replied. "Roy told me where to find the rig. I'll explain as we ride." The older man paused. The man at the desk had told him of his son's plans. How Adam intended to catch a coach in the morning and head back to San Francisco. "That is, if you don't have other plans."

"Of course, I'm coming," his eldest replied as he shifted his hat forward on his head and pulled his collar up. "I can't wait to see what predicament the little scamp has gotten himself into this time."